Serpentine, a Love Story
by Hugo V
Summary: The dangers of combat pale in comparison to those of the heart/mind, a lesson both Madame Vastra and Jenny learn first-handedly in this three-chapter, fluffy, one-shot  or three-shot? Rated Mature for some "activity." Reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first real attempt at fanfiction, so go easy.**

**I don't own Doctor Who or any of its affiliates.**

**Reader Discretion is Advised**

**Chapter 1**

Evening had come early and the day's previous events passed through Madame Vastra's mind like coarse sand through a sieve. An easy looking job presented to her and Jenny a week ago had turned ugly too fast to recollect all at once, but analysis was necessary for the Silurian; she'd ignore her queasiness for a little while.

Learning from careless mistakes taught her how to live with them. A very wise, very old friend had taught her that.

To say that it all started when the task was offered would be a lie because it began long before that. The man she thought she could rely on had turned his back on Vastra and her partner for less then a few pennies, and it hurt. There was no use wondering why. She had tried, failed, and stopped many hours ago.

'Trust an ape? Bah!' She'd think to herself. 'Perish the thought!' Nevertheless, the idea persisted, incessantly clawing at walls of her skull. It screamed a name at her over and over, a familiar, warm name that raised too many questions and not a single answer.

It bothered her deeply, but whom could she talk to? She felt burned and beaten and useless but physically, completely untouched; Madame Vastra was too smart for that, but not smart enough to turn down an offer of unclean money.

The Silurian had long since discovered that there was very little pay in justice or detective work and that she could get by with occasionally killing a few stray apes, guilt-free, if it meant an income.

You could call her a mercenary, but that would be incorrect. A choosy, not particularly friendly, only-some-of-the-time assassin would be more accurate.

Jenny put up with things the best she could manage; Madame Vastra was her mistress after all. Killing didn't bother her, it was the low down, double-crossing thugs they had to deal with that struck a chord. Her and Vastra would walk into the designated spot (usually a dank alleyway) and leave with a new understanding of the term, 'sexual harassment.'

If the dealers couldn't keep their tongues civil enough, Jenny had gruesomely found out, Madame Vastra would quite literally not let them keep their tongues at all.

"It was close today." The young woman spoke, leaning on a white doorframe; lying upon a red-velvet settee in the middle of the room was her mistress, absorbed in the warmth of the nearby fireplace. Occasionally a stray ember would leap out and dance across the floor, traced by the Silurian's cloudy blue eyes.

There was a long silence before Vastra nodded, a 'yes' barely leasing itself from her dusky lips.

Not pleased with the simple affirmation, Jenny pressed on. "You could've gotten 'urt." Though the cockney twinge was normal to her, she felt an odd desire to dress up her language a small bit in front of the Silurian.

For a short time there was not the slightest sign Madame Vastra had heard the remark. Yellow from the nearby flames illuminated her sharp, serpentine features and splayed light between the hills and valleys of her scalp. A sudden crack in the wood changed the blaze to an intense red, revealing a frightening illusion that disappeared in seconds.

"We don't need to talk about this, Jenny." Vastra said quietly.

"I'd like to, mistress."

"We don't need to talk about this." The Silurian repeated herself with a firm tone, but the fold of her partner's arms showed that there was no satisfaction in that answer. Jenny was steadfast, determined not to give an inch; with a wistful sigh, Madame Vastra's eyelids fluttered closed.

Minutes later, Jenny began to dumbly wonder if her mistress was actually asleep and had been for some time. Knowing that was not likely the situation, she turned on her heel and headed towards the kitchen with a heavier than normal step.

"Wait." The Silurian gave in, causing Jenny to pause and look back with a told-you-so smirk.

"Yes?"

"Please sit down." Madame Vastra adjusted herself to allow space on the chaise sofa.

"Shall I get us some tea first?" Jenny didn't wait for a response, but instead continued her walk towards the kitchen; the kettle was already on and screamed from the stove. Filling two bone-china teacups, she steeled her resolve and reentered the room.

Evening shadows flashed across the walls, casting erratic patterns of dark and light to paint empty space. Though the area in which Jenny and Madame Vastra sat was tiny, there was no expense spared for decoration. Deep earth tones radiated coziness that was only amplified by Victorian era furniture; scattered candles presented another, almost sensual layer to the scene.

The Silurian sipped her tea and grimaced, but tried to smile when Jenny noticed her repulsion. "Don't take mind of my distaste." She asked, a sly grin briefly following.

"Very clever pun, mistress." The younger woman couldn't help but laugh at how proud her elder looked and the chuckle was returned. A more than capable grasp on the English language didn't stop the Silurian from being delighted with simple wordplay; this minor trait of childishness could prove adorable at times.

Two charcoal-grey gloves fell beside Jenny, revealing a pair of dainty fingers that started to unhitch the buttons of her vest. Her light brown eyes asked if it was appropriate; Madame Vastra nodded. "I'm sorry about what 'appened."

"I shouldn't have kept faith in that backwards ape." The edge in her voice caught Jenny off-guard; the term 'ape' could cut at times. What she didn't expect, however, was a quick apology. "I meant to say human."

"It's fine, he might as well a' been a monkey." They shared a smile and drank evenly from their respective cups; Vastra beamed with sudden intent.

"Seems like you've gotten this down to a tee, you'll have to leaf me the recipe." If one wasn't concerned with sounding too pretentious in their knowledge of mid-twentieth century literature or late-twentieth century film, they might have named the Silurian a natural Fezzik. It wasn't as much a passion as it was a passing fancy kept between the two ladies in private.

"Milady posses an unsurpassable intellect." Jenny chimed with an uncharacteristically refined inflection; her lack of a proper education made it sound forced but laughable all the same. Madame Vastra turned her head to snicker; an opportunity to let eyes drift was taken eagerly by the younger woman.

Her mistress was dressed in a thin, white linen shirt that fell short of completely covering her midriff. Short black trousers ended just before the knee and allowed sight of the Silurian's taut, muscular calves. The shirt was low cut enough to reveal a delicate upper chest, upon which sat a subtly framed neck usually hidden by silver rings.

The emerald reptilian scales that adorned almost every inch of the woman's body inspired awe in the fading glow of twilight; the sheen of her face was dull, but the torso and legs farther down sparkled with luminosity even when dry. The hungry look on Jenny's face at that moment implied that she'd certainly like to see them wet.

A quick glance upwards showed a pair of near-perfect breasts, and even higher then that were a gorgeous face and eyes; those robins-egg blue beauties that stunningly contrasted the jade of her skin. Those eyes… were looking directly at Jenny in mild confusion.

"What is it? Something wrong?" While the younger woman blushed, her mistress brought a cautious hand up to check for any imperfections.

"N-no, nothing like that." Jenny stammered, then lifted her teacup as a sort of barrier that withheld Vastra's prying gaze and took a lengthened sip; to her discomfort, the Silurian was still staring when the cup was lowered.

"If it's any consolation Jenny, you did a fine job today. I do not know what I would do without you." Though the comment was intended to be light-hearted and sounded as such, it filled her heart with a sort of shy bliss.

A strange thing was happening and Jenny knew it; man was supposed to love woman, woman was supposed to love man. She didn't need schooling to know those terms were what society expected and accepted, yet… At the same time both clarity and murkiness made their home in the crystal that was her life.

The taught against the known.

The known against the feared.

When boiled down to its most quintessential form, Jenny found the truth to be quite self-evident: she had feeling for her mistress, for Madame Vastra, for the Silurian, for the older woman.

Hellfire was bearable if it meant heaven on earth.

Accepting this opened forgotten, long ignored avenues; they were little emotions, namely, that gradually matured. Feelings like anger, confusion, doubt. That was the strongest: doubt. Did she really… like, Madame Vastra? Was that even possible? Was she fooling herself?

The decided answers to those questions, in order, were 'yes', 'maybe', and 'no'. Nearly as fast as it had arrived, the uncertainty vanished back into whatever self-deprecating portion of Jenny's psyche it had emerged from.

The beast of doubt was slain, which would've been good if not for the greater foe left in its wake.

How was she to approach the fresh situation? The thought of courting her own mistress seemed wholly unacceptable, but she had to start somewhere. 'The Madame admires confidence,' considered Jenny.

Three situations presented themselves.

Number one: Jenny would, when the mood was right, formally address her mistress about certain… contemplations. The whole notion seemed too cold and distant to mull over any further.

Number two: Jenny would, whenever passion reared its head, wildly kiss the Silurian full on without restraint. 'But what if she thinks I'm attacking her! I could be cut to ribbons!' she worried. There goes that tactic.

Number three: Jenny would, after years of restraint and regret, die alone by herself a bitter old woman with only short-lived memories for comfort. It was definitely worse than the first but superior to the second.

'It has to be number one then,' the woman sighed.

Meanwhile, Madame Vastra was preoccupied with her own bout of sightseeing; allowed the pleasure of freely examining her partner's body without hesitation, she did exactly that. The magnificence of her porcelain skin or that charming little mole just above the left side of her lip would have stood her hairs on end if she had any.

Jenny's white dress shirt, partially unbuttoned, was clearer now without any vest or tie and allowed sight to the younger woman's milky white collarbone. Midnight black hair lolled lazily upon her bust and flowed down the cloths parting where a modest bout of cleavage could be spotted.

Vastra knew she needed to hold herself from doing any irrational. Where else would she find another partner both adept at swordsmanship and at ease with her alien appearance? This impossible question was to be answered if the Silurian's sudden lust was unrequited.

On the evening of October fourth, eighteen-eighty, Jenny was yearning for devotion and Madame Vastra was yearning for, if one wishes to blatant, sex… two dilemmas, two sides of a dangerous coin that was moments away from being flipped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The following contains heavy violence.**

**I do not own Doctor Who or any of its affiliates.**

**Discretion is Advised**

**Chapter 2**

Several short conversations and a 'goodnight' later, Jenny greeted the new dawn with heart-warming cheeriness and began her numerous duties: these involved preparing breakfast for her mistress, waking her mistress, dealing with her mistress' distress over the previous step, then feeding herself a modest collection of bread and water.

That's how it was everyday and Jenny wouldn't change it if offered the world.

She paused at the second part for her own personal satisfaction; upon a mountain of silky golden sheets and intricately carved redwood slept Madame Vastra, lost enough to not notice Jenny creep into the room.

Her invulnerability at that moment contrasted a usually constant diligence. The Silurian's rarely seen innocence now on display, the servant girl shuffled closer and stifled a giggle at how wrong it all seemed.

Vastra's half-opened mouth revealed two rows of pearly white teeth that glistened as her peculiar tongue slid over them unconsciously. As the older woman's tired eyes fluttered open very suddenly, Jenny shouted, "Time to wake up!" as if she had just entered.

"Already? What time is it?" Madame Vastra slurred, pinching the bridge of her nose in aggravation.

"Please get up m'am, you know how much I adore arguing with you but we've things ta' do today."

"Very true." Her prior look of grief was replaced with one of utmost solemnity. "I'm dressing now." Jenny took the hint and turned, averting her gaze despite the powerful desire to steal a glance. On the opposite end of the room was a glass cabinet whose reflection only allowed a slender, unclear shade of green; 'Frustrating,' she huffed.

Two firm hands fell on Jenny's shoulders from behind, freezing her in place. "You've seemed stressed recently, tense. Is there something the matter?"

"Ah, I..." She trailed off. "I was wondering 'ow you're going ta' find him." Lie after lie, the younger woman scolded herself.

"Scent." Came a wintry, merciless voice that ghosted the back of Jenny's neck. Straps were tightened, cloth was tucked and leather pieces set before Madame Vastra gave her partner the okay. Skipping the breakfast her servant girl had lovingly arranged, the Silurian draped herself in a thick black overcoat and lifted its hood.

"May I accompany you?" Jenny asked, receiving a concise nod in response.

"We're starting and ending this early. There's no business in revenge." The harshness of her mistress' words sent shivers down Jenny's spine as she thought a single truth: Vastra's traitor was going to have a very unpleasant last day on earth.

Sullivan had just finished a long bout of drinking by the time his two assassins had left their home, though that was hardly common knowledge. Morning, he reasoned, was the best time to get intoxicated because it allowed so much room for other things later in the day, namely more drinking.

By both sides were two tall, husky brutes with little respect for manners. The rewards of an excellent set up, Sullivan praised himself. It was gorgeous in simplicity: give that reptile bitch a wealthy target, inform the target, arrange an ambush and reap the benefits of gratitude.

It would've been a self-cleaning plan too if not for Vastra and her partner escaping. Still, he'd gained the trust of the beneficiary, surely an easy tool, while Clete and Murphy served as a safety precaution in the meantime.

"You…" Sullivan spat, leaning on one of the giants and pointing a finger at the other. "What's your name… again?"

"Murphy, boss." Replied Clete's identical twin.

"Lead me to the tavern."

"Are ya' sure, boss?"

"It's not your job to… to… question my orders." He landed a feeble punch upon Murphy's barrel chest. The brothers sighed; escorting Sullivan couldn't in a million years pay well enough, and as they reached 'The Gilded Carriage', a silent agreement was passed.

Dumping the drunkard off at the pub's entrance, Sullivan's part-time bodyguards quickly turned and left without another word. He decided that his strength was better spent on getting through the doors and to a stool then arguing with the thugs, and, with great effort, that was exactly what he did.

Standing at the bar, Sullivan shakily ordered a pint. Around him was the smoke and filth he felt so at home with; prostitutes flaunted their wares while shady dealers sold opium in odd corners of the spacious floor.

Every now and again a bottle was thrown or chair broken for the sake of fighting and raucous crowds would gather for a few seconds, then disperse.

Downing the drink with a ravenous thirst for further inebriation, the short, blonde haired ruffian slapped five coins down onto the table and demanded another.

"The lady at the end a' the counter 'as paid for you a glass of our very best." The bartender explained with an incredulous look on his face and pre-prepared liquor in hand.

Gazing at his patron did little to help, for the haze of lit tobacco pipes clouded any view; all he knew was that it was indeed a woman and definitely not a fat one. His diminutive list of requirements met, Sullivan gulped down the fine-tasting alcohol and headed clumsily to meet his admirer.

He had gotten no further then ten steps when his feet began to feel tremendously heavy; vision blurring, his final thought before falling unconscious was that he'd have to thank whoever it was that had just caught him on the way down.

Brown.

Black.

White.

Green and grey.

These were the colors that Sullivan saw, in order, after slapping himself awake. No, he wasn't slapping himself awake, someone else was. 'How terribly rude,' thought the half-aware man.

An attempt by Sullivan to rub his eyes was thwarted by rope, causing him to blink heavily over and over again until focus returned. When it did, his breath was taken.

Before him stood Madame Vastra and Jenny, the latter he recognized from inside the tavern. He grinned until his brain caught up, which was when he frowned.

Another hard cuff across the face sent Sullivan into overdrive; his effort to stand had been met with the same problem his now sweating hands were faced with: more rope. Sobering up, he improvised.

"Oh! Vastra! How nice to see you again! I was wondering when we… we were going to… uh… run into each other."

"Do you want me to gag 'im?" Asked Jenny, to which Madame Vastra shook her head 'no'.

"Heavens Jenny, why would we want that?" Sullivan nervously laughed. "We're just having a polite conversation… with bondage."

"Are you sure you don't want me to?" She lightly suggested.

"I'm sure." The Silurian lowered her hood to reveal a frighteningly placid expression. "Sullivan… I'm not impressed with your recent behavior."

"Now why would you say that, old friend?" The hiss Vastra emitted at the words 'old friend' made the traitor immediately wish to take them back. On first glance alone, Sullivan discerned the alleyway they were in as one far, far out of the way.

"Did you ever seriously believe that we'd let you go free for your actions against us?" Madame Vastra's words were bitterly calculated as if thought out before hand.

Knowing the futility of struggle, Sullivan spat messily at her shoes. "You smarmy cunt, I'll have you skinned and made into a purse!"

"The mistress prefers Madame, or m'am." Jenny corrected, an embarrassed smile playing upon her lips.

"That goes for you too! They'll find your body at the bottom of the river Seine when I'm finished fuckin' it!" The mad man snarled.

Even Vastra was slightly taken aback at his words. "Don't worry dear, no one is going to defile your corpse today." She reassured.

"Thanks." Said the younger woman uneasily.

"Now what are we going to do with you." Sullivan merely kneeled, wildly thrashing around from time to time in fits of sudden rage. He calmed when a lengthy, sharp katana raised itself to his throat. "Quiet down."

"If I may suggest," said Jenny faux-timidly, "using some of the tools we've brought along?" Madame Vastra sheathed her sword and removed a roll of fabric from her coat.

"Very good idea, Jenny." She knelt down and spread it to its full span, the open folds exposing silver instruments of various size; some were sharp and small, others resembled hammers. "It's been far too long since I've had an opportunity such as this." The Silurian fiddled around before pulling out a long scalpel. "It shan't go to waste."

"Please," Sullivan began to plead, "I can give you anything you want. Name it, it's yours!" Vastra considered the offer.

"Okay… I think I'll take your eyelids first." She caught the skin of his right eye between her thumb and forefinger. "Beg me for mercy."

"Mercy!" A quick slice and blood filled Sullivan's vision.

"You can try harder than that." Vastra laughed, gripping his left eyelid tightly.

"Oh god, please, oh my god." Another slash, another burst of red. Jenny stomached the horror with guilty satisfaction.

"There we are." Madame Vastra jeered as the man cried out in unendurable agony. "If you don't stop I'll have your tongue next." Sullivan settled down enough to see the reptilian woman replace her knife with a sturdy mallet.

"Wise choice, mistress." Jenny chimed in a little too brightly, watching the man try to shake away the burning in his face to no avail.

"Please stop, oh god, somebody help me."

"I'm sure you'd simply betray them as well, and what did I just tell you." Vastra chuckled, doing a little 'help me' dance for Jenny, that of which she found to be hilariously morbid. "Shall I play his head like a drum?"

Before Jenny had time to say 'yes,' Madame Vastra had already whirled around to deliver a strong thud to Sullivan's jaw. A loud cracking noise could be heard as his bottom lip went slack, leaving blood and saliva to stream freely down his chin. If the battered man could manage to yell once again for help, he knew his voice would be too hoarse to travel far.

"Jenny, dear, you've been too quiet. We can finish the traitor off, let him go, or get right back on schedule. Your choice."

"Why stop now?" She winked.

"Correct answer." Madame Vastra sneered. "Remember the assignment you gave me years ago to torture that innocent aristocrat?" She asked Sullivan, not expecting him to speak back; he didn't surprise her. "I broke his collarbone. It's a horribly painful thing to do to an ape, break their collarbone. The trauma alone can kill a man, but I'd imagine you're made of tougher stuff."

One swift motion towards Sullivan's mouth was Jenny's cue to stuff it with a grey rag that turned deep crimson on contact; a muffled groan escaped as loose teeth shifted.

"Let's test that theory."

Winding back her arm, Madame Vastra let loose and fell forward with all the force her body weight could muster, effectively shattering Sullivan's neckline and shoulder blade. Before he even had time to yelp, another blow struck the side of his head; glassy, lidless eyes refused to shut as the helpless man slumped over. He was close to death, so close it was palpable.

Madame Vastra was the first to talk. "I want to leave him suffering, but I think his punishment's been adequately handled. Give me the word and his head will be yours to cherish, my ever faithful partner."

Jenny blushed, completely jaded to the grisly state of affairs she had just contributed to. "I'd like that a lot."

No later had her 'ever faithful' partner finished the word 'lot', had Vastra decapitated and displayed Sullivan's tattered skull in a closed fist.

"May I?" Said Jenny, reaching out for the scalp.

"Of course, of course." Complied Vastra, exchanging the gruesome prize between hands; fingers touched and a shy look was shared. As if the object was a ripe pumpkin on Halloween, Jenny flung the head against a wall and took pride in the macabre style it exploded.

Madame Vastra clapped with joy, still laughing long after she had repacked her tools and raised the hood of her coat. Skipping out of the alleyway, the two women merrily pranced back to their home.

"Oh, and by the way dear, I'm sorry for skipping breakfast this morning."

"It's alright, m'am." And it was.

Somebody would eventually stumble upon the repugnant scene, sure, but to Jenny it had all been worth it, if only to spend a little quality time with her doting mistress. She felt as if she was on a warm tropical beach instead of in foggy London town, torturing people.

In a more than faintly twisted way, it was all the same to Jenny.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: The following contains sexual conduct.**

**I do not own Doctor Who or any of its affiliates, nor do I own Barry Manilow (nobody can, he's one groovy, free spirit).**

**Discretion is Advised.**

**Chapter 3**

Madame Vastra and Jenny celebrated the evening Sullivan died, if for no other reason than the wine; many bottles had been stacked in the Silurian's cellar and saved for special occasions that seemed to hardly ever come around, so it was completely understandable they were on their third within the second hour.

From her short time traveling with the Doctor, Vastra had ascertained a low-grade CD player and 'The Essential Barry Manilow', which technically wasn't supposed to come out for an odd, hundred and twenty five years or so.

Regardless, the two women knocked back glass after sweet tasting glass while Vastra happily sung along to 'Mandy.'

"I remember all my life, nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh, like ice…" She hiccupped and giggled at how badly she was missing the lyrics, despite having listened to the disc, her only real source of music, many times over. A faux-serious shade fell over her face. "Shadows of a man! A face through a window!" Vastra raised a hand dramatically, "Crying, in the night…"

"Crying, in the night…" Jenny echoed quietly.

"Just another day, happy people pass my way! How happy you made me, oh Mandy! Oh Mandy!" She held the note shakily.

"Oh Mandy!" Jenny laughed.

"Right? Oh you came and you gave without taking, but I sent you away." Very suddenly and without warning she splayed her limbs back and fell onto the red velvet settee below her. Jenny followed suit.

The two women laughed in unison, hugging each other's shoulders with a free arm until they felt sore and chose to loosen up. The song ended to several over exaggerated groans of disappointment. A foreign silence filled the room, perforated by long streaks of giddy chuckling.

Jenny was the first to turn; she eyed Vastra without a care in the world, for her, there was not a single one. Her mistress was clothed once again in a white linen shirt and tight black shorts, and if Jenny squinted, it was if she had travelled back to the day before.

The green of the Silurian's skin shown through the thin cloth and revealed enough to red the younger woman's ears with inner heat. Vastra's emerald scales showed no weakness against the room's dim candlelight, pure luster reflecting white against the darkness.

Madame Vastra moved her head to face the servant she'd grown so attached to; their eyes met and in that seemingly endless minute, a certainty was realized, understood, then accepted.

Leaning forward enough to feel Jenny's unsteady breath on her lips, Vastra closed the gap and kissed her lightly, then again, this time harder. The younger woman put up no fight as the fire within her burned powerfully; she reached up to caress the Silurian's cheek, tracing the alien contours of her features and dove deeper into the embrace.

Madame Vastra restrained a moan when Jenny began to nip along her neck, lengthened to receive the pressing teeth. Still at her servant girl's mercy, the Silurian brought two nimble hands forward to unbutton her grey vest, which slipped to the carpet below. The older woman failed to repress another gasp and stopped undressing her partner, allowing Jenny to plant gentle bites along her jaw line.

"Ah, ah, _Jenny_."

"Yes m'am?" She murmured through a particularly responsive cluster of scales. Vastra took long to continue.

"Where did you… Where did you… Ah…" She moaned.

"Where did I… what?" Jenny loved the effect her mouth was having.

"Where did you learn this?" The Silurian managed to whisper.

She led her lips down to Madame Vastra's upper chest, taking joy in her mistress' flushed reaction; an emerald hand gripped the back of Jenny's head, caressing the blackness of her hair. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting ta' do this."

"Really?" Vastra drew out the word. "Why didn't you say-" A strong nibble caused her voice to heighten in pitch, "so?"

In a cooperative effort, Jenny lifted her mistress' shirt above her head and threw it with wild abandon to the pile below; a trail of thinly layered saliva showed Jenny's trail downward and its stops along the way. Most notably was the passage to Madame Vastra's heaving breasts, now coated with evidence of Jenny's presence. A firm nip in the right place, Jenny found, was enough to cause two muscular legs to wrap around her lower back.

Emerging from the sea of pleasure long enough to clearly see the room around her, Madame Vastra efficiently removed Jenny's dress shirt and rolled on top. A newfound way to vent her aggression was practiced upon the younger woman's trembling body and sharper-than-average teeth found their way to her shapely ear.

"Let's see how you like it." Jenny failed to brace herself for the shock wave that coursed through her veins upon Vastra's attack. When the Silurian bit too hard, the servant girl spoke up.

"Gentle!" She squealed.

"Yes, yes of course. I wouldn't want my porcelain doll to break, now, would I? There's still so much more _playing to be done_."

"That there is…" Jenny agreed through excited panting. Nimble fingers unhooked Jenny's last remnants of clothing, leaving the two impassioned women with nothing more than their separate trousers; a minute later found those at the foot of the sofa as well.

Their mouths connected again, touching, feeling, exploring. Vastra's tongue was long and snake-like, but thick and unyielding as well; it slithered deftly down to the back of Jenny's throat and twisted throughout her mouth, sliding along the inside walls of her warm cheeks. The younger woman tried in vain to regain her dominance but finally accepted being completely at the mercy of her mistress.

Madame Vastra opened her eyes and controlled a giggle at the exertion evident on Jenny's face; the Silurian took that as inspiration to delve further still until the younger woman pushed for air. Five seconds passed before Vastra's tongue was fully removed and back within her own lips, leaving Jenny to huff and puff.

"You're _such_ a light-weight." Her mistress joked endearingly.

"What else can that tongue do?" Jenny replied, lightning in her eyes; Madame Vastra took it as a non-rhetorical question.

"Well, it's good for poisoning and the general incapacitation of targets…" A look of disbelief clarified things for the Silurian. "Oh!" She blinked. "Amongst other things…" Vastra leaned down for another kiss but was stopped halfway.

"Show me."

"If you'd like." Madame Vastra grinned devilishly as she pecked her way to Jenny's flat stomach, taking time to grasp the younger woman's sculpted back; her palms were met with shoulder blades that jutted outwards, accompanied by the long crevice that ended at the servant girl's well-rounded ass.

"Prepare yourself for unimaginable-"

"Oh just get on with it!" Jenny begged. Madame Vastra granted her wish, placing her head stiffly between the younger woman's inner thighs. In private fantasies, the servant girl had pleasured herself many times to the same image, but in reality it was so much better. She sharply inhaled when her mistress gained entrance and held herself the best she could without passing out.

The house fell away and all Jenny could see were shades of scarlet as Madame Vastra navigated her insides with dexterous skill; prodding roughly against the younger woman's sex, Vastra tested several different theories.

Rabid with adrenaline, Jenny coaxed Vastra's head deeper, to which she complied with great enthusiasm. The servant girl's hips began to shudder as she reached climax, forcing an indescribable ecstasy to cloud her vision and drown her very soul in an ocean of heated delight. She collapsed backwards, exhausted by the ordeal but radiating pure, near tangible bliss.

Another jolt ran through her flesh as the reptilian woman removed herself, causing Jenny to yelp at her own sensitivity.

"Like I said," Madame Vastra repeated after she'd reclaimed her tongue, "a light-weight. My turn's tomorrow, until then, rest."

Jenny could only offer up a weak nod and dopey smile. A little later, she fell asleep and dreamed of what exhilarating erotic adventures the coming days would bring. In time, all of them surpassed her expectations.

Though the house belonged to Madame Vastra, it became Jenny's in the years to come.

**THE END**

**Reviews are appreciated! Stay tuned for my next two DW fics, "A Deeper Shade of Blue" and "Triumph of the Could've-Been King."**


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